The digital landscape has transformed the human experience, turning private tragedies into public spectacles. A stroll through social media recently revealed a woman bravely sharing her deeply personal journey of living with an HIV/AIDS diagnosis. Instead of a sanctuary of support, the comment section quickly dissolved into a horrific display of obnoxious, toxic commentary. Jeering behind the safety of their screens, strangers weaponized their own perceived morality to berate and humiliate a fellow human being. This dark side of human nature exposes a severe empathy deficit in our modern world, where people sit on the sidelines waiting to rejoice in the misfortunes of others. It forces us to ask: when did we become so arrogant that we forgot our own fragility?
This modern cruelty stems from a place of deep-seated fear and intellectual arrogance. By mocking someone else’s crisis, the internet mob tries to convince themselves that they are untouchable—that their careful choices, their social status, or their perfect reputations insulate them from tragedy. But life does not operate on a boardroom spreadsheet, and hardship does not discriminate. No matter how meticulously we build our lives, unforeseen circumstances can upend our reality in a single heartbeat. No one is permanently immune to suffering, and bad luck does not ask for permission before it alters our path. When we look down on someone else’s pain with judgment instead of compassion, we are simply masking our own terror of how unpredictable existence truly is.
There is a profound traditional Jamaican proverb that perfectly humbles this online arrogance: “Tideh fi mi, Tuhmarrah fi yuh.” Translated into English, it literally means, "Today for me, tomorrow for you." It serves as a stark cultural warning that experience teaches wisdom; we could easily find ourselves drowning in the exact same crisis in a day or so.
This timeless island wisdom mirrors the beautiful lesson my father taught me. Growing up, whenever he witnessed others navigating immense difficulty or catastrophic circumstances, he would solemnly say, “There for the grace of God go I.” While he was not the original author of that ancient phrase, it became a foundational anchor in his life, and it has become an equally vital anchor in mine. This statement demands that we look at a person in the depths of a storm—whether they are battling a terrifying medical diagnosis, financial ruin, or personal heartbreak—and recognize our own reflection in their eyes. It forces us to acknowledge that but for a tiny twist of fate, or a moment where things simply slipped through the cracks, we could easily be the ones walking in that exact same pair of painful shoes.
Ultimately, breaking the culture of online jeering requires a conscious return to self-reflection. Before typing a cruel comment or throwing an insult, we must have the courage to look into the mirror and say to ourselves, “It could have been me.” True grace is not found in celebrating our own temporary safety while others drown; it is found in listening and rolling up our sleeves to offer a lifeline of empathy. In a world that often feels cold, transactional, and eager to witness a downfall, protecting our shared humanity is a sacred duty. By filtering our perspectives through the humbling lens of my father's words and our traditional proverbs, we protect our own peace, honor the struggles of those fighting to heal, and ensure that our hearts remain soft enough to carry one another through the dark.
Tah-Tah! Humility is a shield against the arrogance of the crowd. Let’s guard our words and look at others with a softer lens.
Grace Dunkley-Asphall, Copyright © 2026
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